La Femme du Fromage
by etaeternum
Summary: Alistair goes window shopping. This is all for fun. Ridiculousness based on Alistair's "unholy love of fine cheeses."


This is for the DA Bad Smut Bonanza on tumblr. I'm etaeternum on there.

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"Maker's breath," Alistair mumbled. "There's so many."

Breath steamed on the glass. His gaze wandered different colors, smooth textures, and curves. Some bound with small ropes and others covered in wax. But most were bare, waiting for him; craving the feel of his fingers against their skin. He blinked slowly. With a long inhale, he pulled in the mature and pungent scent that swirled in the air around him. The variety, all of them gorgeous and unique, sparked his appetite; his eyes devoured the show before him.

"Can I help you?" A white apron appeared beside him. His eyes traveled up the body to meet the eyes of the woman who spoke. She was stunning, and in a different way than the rest. Stern, her hair pulled back in a tight bun and horn-rimmed glasses resting on her nose.

"Well, there's a lot to choose from. I was just looking," his mumbles continued, gaze traveling back to the spectacle on the other side of the glass.

"You're welcome to look all you want," she replied provocatively; her voice lowering, luring him into her invitation. His attention distracted, he looked back to her, watching her mouth as it moved."And if you find one you like, you can even have a... taste." She purred, the words rolling off her tongue with the crisp annunciation of her accent, a flowing cadence that made his heart thrum. The woman winked.

A timid grin made its way to his lips while his cheeks flushed. "Hah, while I'd love to have a taste ma'am, I don't think I could pick just one." His statement was overly bold and he knew it. Hopeful, daring in a careful way, he waited for her reply.

The woman smiled and her brow lifted; she saw through his timidity and detected the daring suggestion he made. It pleased her. "Call me Madame," she corrected. "I have something I think you'd like to see. Follow me, young man," her statement joined her motions, raising the hinged section of the wooden counter next to the display case of cheeses. After walking through, she gave a silent curl of her finger to suggest Alistair to follow.

Alistair's blush brightened up to his ears and he bobbed his head, following her with obedient agreement. "All right... Madame."

A gesture with her arm directed Alistair to a back room of the small cheese shop. He had stumbled across the small store, hidden in the back of an undisclosed market in Orlais. _La Femme du Fromage_. The name caught his attention. What he found quickly made up for the abysmal place he assumed of Orlais beforehand.

The light of the market vanished when he stepped foot into the backroom. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when his focus returned he gasped. Before him, walls of cheeses, boxes storing them on shelves. A wooden table and a single chair occupied the center of the room. A lone candle rested on the table.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the cheese lady stood with her back to the exit. "Have a seat," she ordered. Her voice vibrated through the open space, rattling him to the core.

Alistair gulped. With a deep breath, he paced to the chair and sat. It left him facing the cheese lady. She smirked as she came closer. Seductively walking with one foot in front of the other in a narrow line to him, her heels clicked on the stone floor. Chilled, the sound made Alistair shiver.

The woman's arm lifted to her bun. In a fluid motion, she pulled out a pin and her hair cascaded down her shoulders. Dark, long, voluptuous, tresses freed as she tossed her head side to side.

She neared him. Doe-eyed, he watched wordlessly, not realizing his mouth gaped open until she dragged her index finger along his jaw and tapped under his chin. Alistair's mouth snapped shut and he swallowed. She turned, satisfied with his obedience, and gracefully strolled to her library of cheeses. Anxious and eager eyes followed her with undivided attention. Intrigue kept him seated, craving gnawed at his appetite, and the will to obtain what she offered drove his obedience.

Her back faced him as she searched her collection. "Where are you from, young man?" She questioned nonchalantly.

"I'm from Ferelden, Madame," his polite answer spoke uncertainty, curious of the woman's reason for the question. "My name is Alistair. Do you have a name, by chance?"

"Young man," she addressed him with amusement. "Did I ask for your name?" Her stern question voiced as she transferred select packages from the shelf to the table. Her sultry gaze met his, waiting for his response. Alistair could only offer the shake of his head. "And did I offer you mine?" She asked. He shook his head again, bewildered, silent and extremely intrigued. "Good boy," she smirked. "I will make you a deal, young man. Continue to be so well behaved, and you will be rewarded. You enjoy cheese, I take it?"

Bashfulness set aside, Alistair's enthusiastic smile broadened. Prepared to deliver a tangent about his love for fine cheeses, the woman's critical stare from her horn-rimmed glasses stopped him short. "I do... a lot, Madame," he replied politely.

His awareness of the three packages lay on the table- one wrapped in paper, one in wax and the other in gold- compelled him. The innate desire to try these delicacies stimulated his compliance. The unique circumstances of this sampling did more to pique his interest than ward him away.

"If you do not comply," she lectured, laying out the rules of their engagement, "punishments will ensue. Do you understand?"

"Um... yes, I think so, Madame," his cheeks remained pink, eyes wide in wonder.

"Good," she hummed.

Watching her skilled and experienced digits open the first package caused his insides to stir. Anticipation built, prepared for the first trial of his behavior. Hungry for the rewards she proposed, he wanted to please her.

Paper crinkled and parted, revealing two cream colored spheres. The woman walked around to the other side of the table, sitting across from Alistair in his chair. A tactful hop aided by the support of her hand brought her to sit on the table-top, and her heeled foot divided Alistair's legs. Alistair gulped; sordid cheese related fantasies suddenly flicked through his imagination, sparked by her forwardness and fueled by his hunger. The delicate heel hooked on the lip of the chair, and the feet dragged on the hard floor, ringing through the room as she pulled him closer. She adjusted her glasses before speaking.

"I have fine treats in store for you, young man," she sang sweetly. Her dulcet smile caused his chest to tighten. "The first is my shop's most popular item," she tugged at the open paper package and brought it closer. "My cheese balls. The town loves my Lydesian balls."

Careful fingers extended and she pried one from the paper, examining it as she spoke. "They are not for the faint of heart, and some say they are an acquired taste." Her gaze moved from the cheese ball to Alistair. She popped the item in her mouth and closed her eyes, plump lips pursed as her mouth moved, allowing the cheese to dissolve on her tongue. She made a soft _mmm_ sound, swallowed, and spoke. Need stirred as he watched her; his mouth watered. "Take one, my dear, and follow my instructions."

Forehead wrinkled, his brow lifted. Alistair did as she said, surprised at the simplicity of the agreement so far. Eager to satisfy, both her wish and his desire, he leaned forward and grabbed a cheese ball. But before he could bring his arm back, the cheese lady gently placed her hand on his.

"That's 'Yes, Madame,'" she reminded, smiling, scolding him in the most alluring way.

"Oh, okay. Yes, of course, Madame," he mirrored, blushing. He realized he had failed her order and feared consequence. But the thought did not linger; she continued her directions.

"My cheese balls are unique, and some consider them spicy," she described her product with loving fascination as if the cheese she created reflected a part of her being. Alistair listened intently, staving the urge to devour the tempting morsel he held. "You should try a small taste, in case you don't like it. Go ahead and give it a lick."

The fragrant scent of spice, definitely unique as she described, found his nose. He nodded at her order. "Will do, Madame," he mumbled and extended his tongue, licking the cheese ball resting in his fingers.

Her smile grew. "Good. Yes, but remember, be gentle with your hand. I don't want you to crush it before it finds its way into that pretty mouth of yours. Do you want more?"

"I do, Madame," he nodded, having enjoyed the small sample the lick provided, desperately craving more. "If you'll let me."

"Wonderful," the woman exclaimed; her hands came together over her chest. "Go ahead and put it in your mouth, dear." Her lips parted, mouth opening as her eyes followed the cheese ball Alistair placed on his tongue. She closed her mouth, reflecting his, and hummed another _mmm._ "Yes! Now feel the ball on your tongue and savor it. Uh-huh, just like that. Do you like the way it tastes?"

The cheese melted in his mouth and the nutty flavor agreed with his palate. Unable to keep his eyes open, they closed, appreciating the brilliance of the flavor she provided him. He swallowed his mouthful and licked his lips. When he opened his eyes, he noticed the cheese woman's pleasured blink. "I most certainly do, Madame," he replied, grinning at her reaction; his answer precise though he wished to laud the flavor. He wanted more.

"Such a good boy," her voice rang with affection. "Your next treat, another reward for all your good behavior, is intended only for the most mature taste-buds." The cheese lady hopped off the table and walked behind Alistair's chair. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear. "It's best to experience this cheese with heightened senses. So hold still, my dear."

Alistair's eyes attempted to see as much as possible from his periphery. Stimulated by her breath on the back of his neck, yearning for more of whatever she just gave him, he complied. Aroused by the texture of rope brushing against the skin of his wrists; the woman's hands guided his together behind the chair. She released a delighted hum; his appetite grew.

Then fabric found his eyes. She blindfolded him and he grunted with surprise. " _Shhh,"_ she whispered, knotting the fabric at the back of his head. "You're being such a good boy, Madame will surely reward you."

"Thank you, Madame," he murmured, the pang of gluttonous lust grew in his stomach. The ravenous need to gratify Madame became innate, without question. Reckless abandon of his life before this point, he wanted- no, needed to please her. He needed to earn her prize.

"Good boy," she said, her tone vibrating his nerves.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his senses heightened. Keen to any sounds she made, his skin felt the still air of the room move when she did. The cheese lady returned to the table and his ears attuned to the rustling noises from the table. His insides exclaimed, elated she was opening another package.

"Open your mouth, young man," she ordered; enticing notes rang through her words.

"Gladly, Madame," he replied, enraptured. His lips parted and his jaw dropped slightly. His mouth opened. Blind devotion given with his mouth agape, waiting to be filled with the next reward.

Her heels clicked but for a moment until he felt her weight on his lap. The petite woman sat on one leg and her upper body pressed to his. Alistair held his breath, nervous, enthralled by the complete attention the cheese lady gave.

"Breathe, my dear," she whispered. Her lips mumbling close to his ears. Alistair groaned from delight and obeyed, filling his lungs with cheese-perfumed sustenance.

Anticipation built while he waited. Seconds dragged, his patience tested, but he remained obedient. Then a strange texture found his lips, and a unique soft smoothness entered his mouth. He opened his jaw more to give her room and the rewards were instant. A hard exterior encased creamy insides. Salty, gooey goodness washed his taste-buds and Alistair released a moan. "Oh, Maker's breath," he admitted involuntarily, his mouth still full. Sticky cream dribbled down his chin.

The cheese lady chuckled at his exclamation and purred. "There, there dear," her weight shifted ever so slightly. "You've got some on your face. Hold still."

Alistair gave an _uh-huh_ as her slender finger slid up his chin, catching the melted cheese that had dribbled. Her finger gently found his lips, providing him with what would have been wasted excellence. The digit extended over his tongue. Staying the urge to wrap his lips around her finger and suck the runny, salty flavor, he waited for her instructions.

She must have noticed. "Suck, dear boy," she demanded smoothly and he obeyed. An unconscious moan released as his lips closed. His tongue pressed against her digit; his mouth created suction, savoring every last drop of the wet and melted scraps.

The woman's breath held as he sucked; her watchful eyes monitored Alistair's pleasured enjoyment of shared indulgence. Her finger pulled out with a popping sound, all of the flavor removed by his determined mouth. She wiped her finger on her apron and rose from his lap.

"That was my Churneau," the woman explained as she moved back to Alistair's back, removing the blindfold and rope. "Did you like it?"

"You could say that," he answered, grinning as he recalled the glorious taste testing that just transpired. His head nodded with enthusiasm. Taking in the sight of the cheese goddess before him, he stretched his arms with his returned mobility. "I liked it very much. Thank you, Madame." Added gratitude showed respect for the woman, hopeful he had earned the last treat waiting on the table.

"You are most welcome, dear boy," she cooed. "It has been a pleasure." She came around from behind him and returned to the table. Gold foil wrapped the only unopened package remaining on the surface. Both their glances traveled to the last remaining cheese, then back to each other.

"Have I been well behaved enough, Madame?" Alistair boldly asked, knowing that his satisfactory behavior determined his obtainment of the last sample of cheese.

The cheese woman hopped back on the table, facing him. Her long lashes blinked to the gold package and pulled it to her side. She picked up the small, gold shape and peeled off the wrapper. The crinkle of foil echoed through the room. When she finished, she looked back to Alistair with another sultry gaze; Alistair's heart pounded harder.

"You have been very well behaved, young man," she sang enticingly. "But this last reward is my most prized cheese. My secret three crème recipe. I don't sell this to the public. I call it: Mon Plaisir and you'll need to work for it."

"I see," his curious brows furrowed. Now devoted to the cheese woman's whims, he craved her illustrious private cheese. "What will you have me do for it, Madame?"

The cheese lady's legs parted, causing her skirt to hike up her thighs. She grinned and curled her finger. "Come here, my dear."

Alistair's eyes widened again and his blush returned. A mumbled ' _Madame_ ' accompanied the nod of his head. With another gulp, he rose from his chair and closed the space between him and this goddess of cheeses. Alistair's muscular frame stepped between her spread legs. Like a puppy expecting a snack, he awaited her instructions to earn his reward.

"Do you want to try Mon Plaisir?" She inquired; her honeyed notes fuddled his focus.

"So much, Madame," he confirmed respectfully, his hands at his sides.

"Then get down on your knees and beg for it," she purred.

Alistair blushed harder, his heart thrumming hard against his ribcage. The anticipation of her Plaisir built need within him: to prove his worthiness of a taste of this cheese before he returned to Ferelden. He knew a chance to try something like this woman's treat would never come again. The yearning brought him to his knees.

Her long legs crossed as he knelt beneath her. She looked down her nose, awaiting his plea.

Alistair gazed up, hopeful, grinning. His hands met, fingers crossed, and lifted toward her. "Please. Please, Madame. Trying your Plaisir would..." he searched for words and sighed. "Well, it would make my life complete. I need this, Madame. Please."

"If I give you a taste of Mon Plaisir," she continued, "You must tell no one. Will you keep this to yourself?"

He shook his head, "Of course. Whatever you want, Madame. Anything."

"Such a good boy," she crooned. "Then rise, young man."

Alistair stood, and as he rose, her legs uncrossed. He stood between her thighs, palms flat on the table on each side of her body. The cheese woman cut the cylindrical shape resting on the gold foil with a dull knife. She picked up the piece with care; her hand hovered under the fragment as she brought it to Alistair, cautious to catch any fallen crumbs. Enthralled, his eyes followed her motion like a hawk.

He could tell she was eager too. The light in her eyes as she brought the cheese to his lips excited him. So he teased her, knowing at this point she would appreciate his savoring of her flavor. His tongue flicked against the delicate morsel; just a taste of the treasure that awaited. Sweet honey, the hints of her Plaisir overwhelmed his senses. It's texture, like butter, indulged him. He needed more. A groan escaped him as he nibbled the piece, teeth careful against the sensitive surfaces. It was decadent.

The cheese lady gasped and let out a small sigh. Her breath caught as Alistair's tongue reached for more, penetrating her treasure. Her moans increased in frequency as she watched him, lapping up the cheese with devoted diligence.

The flavor so sinfully sweet and decadent, he committed a trip to the Chantry as soon as he left the cheese shop. In that moment, she gave him all of her Plaisir. An elegant whine escaped her and her eyes rolled back as he devoured her cheese. Senses overwhelmed, the tension built between them during the length of the sampling released in one moment. Alistair finished.

Lingering glances and satisfied smiles passed as they returned to the main storefront. Alistair thanked the cheese woman; _the wife of cheese_ , she informed him of the title of her shop. She bid him adieu, and he made his way to the Chantry.

A few days later, on his trip back to Ferelden, he noticed an odd item crinkling in his pocket. He reached in and found a gold wrapper; _Mon Plaisir,_ the label read. The store's crest, two rings overlapped and the name of the shop arched over the center; _La Femme du Fromage._


End file.
